


The Long Road Home

by GuesssWho



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Traveling, coming home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3459605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuesssWho/pseuds/GuesssWho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone else gets to come back to the Shire</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Road Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is in some ways less a fic than the outline of a larger fic that I don't really have the attention span to write. Anyone who wants to expand on it is more than free.

Smeagol woke. He was on something far softer than he had ever known, and the horrible burning pain had faded to a dull ache in his hand and an itch on his back. Soft voices murmured around him.

"--must have crawled out of the fire with one hand useless."

"The creature had enough willpower to stay partly himself for hundreds of years against the One. Is it really such a surprise?"

"No, I suppose not. But it does present us with the problem of what to do with him. He helped save the world, yet we'd all be safer were he in a cage."

And then Frodo's voice said "We're taking him home," in tones that would brook no gainsaying, and there was muted pressure as another hand took his. "We're taking him home and teaching him to be a hobbit again."

Smeagol smiled weakly and squeezed the hand back, wincing a bit as the skin around and between his fingers pulled oddly.

"You might not want to do that too much," said a healer, "your hand is . . . kind of gilded."

Somehow Smeagol managed to look down despite his lingering exhaustion and whimpered: there were ropy lumps of gold looping between his fingers, with twisted letters glowing in a pale line around them. "Oh," he said, very quietly. "Precious really is ours now." And with that he passed out again.

 

He woke the second time to Sam, Frodo and two other hobbits trying to get him into some clothes.

Sam shook his head. "No, that's not going to work. He honestly looks weirder when they're on than off."

"He looks equally weird no matter what you do," Pippin opined, but Frodo shook his head.

"You've only just met him, Pip. To Sam and I he looks perfectly normal in his usual outfit."

"I wouldn't say perfectly," said Sam, but it was halfhearted.

In the mean time Smeagol had become annoyed by, and somewhat trapped in, the shirt they had foisted on him. He pulled it off, threw it in a corner and proceeded to sulk.

Merry chuckled. "Alright, no clothes then."

 

It wasn't so long before Smeagol finished healing, although the gold of the One Ring still clung to him stubbornly and he had some trouble bending that hand. It was worth it, though, for several reasons--he no longer had to worry about losing the damned thing, it no longer whispered in the dark, and it still hid him when he wanted it to. Without the worrying and the whispers he could feel Gollum merging into him a bit more, ending the fight and letting his two self-sides cooperate. It felt pleasant to mostly agree with himself, and by the time the hobbits started home he was beginning to feel truly happy.

He was even more happy that he was included. Minas Tirith was nice enough and all, but all the white was getting on his nerves. Stupid overly-white city.

 

The journey through Gondor and Rohan was fairly easy, though people stared at the Hobbits and cringed from Smeagol. Those members of the Fellowship as were also going home came with them, though, and helped keep gawkers at bay--although Gimli stared a bit at Smeagol himself, in the beginning.

"That? That was once a hobbit, truly?"

"We is being hobbitses long ago, yesss--and we is being hobbit now, just curssseded.

"So ssshut up, dwarf. We knows we's ugly, say it again and you bes dinner!"

"Stop it, the both of you!" said Frodo grumpily. "Gimli, you're being mean to Smeagol. Gollum, no eating my friends."

"But we's never had dwarf-meat before," said Gollum. He was grinning, though, not taking it too seriously. "Jussst goblinses, my love, and they taste awful."

"I'm sorry, but that is too disgusting for words," said Pippin. "Never mention it again, please."

Which of course inspired Gollum to sing 'we ate goblins, we ate goblins' for the next several miles.

 

Lothlorien was beginning to fade already, with the loss of the One, but Smeagol worried for reasons opposite of anyone else's. He still had trouble touching things of Elf make, and had to swim or climb trees instead of using bridges and stairways.

But the beauty made him smile, eyes wide and fangs showing, and he let Galadriel touch him even as a fleck or two of dark ash fell from his head where her fingers brushed. It was a healing pain, and he looked a bit healthier after that.

He slept that night under the tree where the Fellowship was staying, their little shadow to guard them in the dark, against all comers. Come what may, he would be there. He swore so; by both the Precious and by his hate for it, and by his fangs, and by his quiet in the darkness. And so was spent his time in Lothlorien.

 

None but Smeagol himself could have entered Moria with the bridge still missing, and between the Watcher in the Water and the cave-in on the other side getting out was an even bigger problem. But they were in no great hurry now, so they went along the range through the Gladden Fields and into the tunnels that were once Smeagol's home.

On the way they rested under an old willow tree one night, and when Legolas spotted words carved into the trunk Smeagol broke into tired sobbing, for it was he who had carved them in days so long before. The willow had been his favorite before the One had ever been found, and later on had marked Deagol's grave.

 

"You really lived here?" Pippin looked around the cave and winced. "It's a bit squalid, isn't it?"

"We liveded here four hundred yearses and ssseventy and four, if we did mathses right." Smeagol shrugged. "Was not ssso bad, really. We missseded it when we went into the world again, we did. Promissseded we'd return to it some day, and so we hasss.

"But we not think we can be alone again, my Precious. So we mark cave with . . . with mem-or-yeel, and keep going, yesss?"

"Of course, Smeagol," said Frodo, And they carved words of mourning and praise into the stones, before they left.

 

There were many streams in Imladris, and Smeagol enjoyed swimming in them. ( _Gollum_ enjoyed being more cheeky, rude and silly every time he met Elrond, calling the place 'Emerald-Ass' and its Lord 'Ronnie.') Both of him enjoyed startling people, and they often clung to ceilings so they could shove their face in the faces of the tall elves and giggle when they jumped. Their sense of humor was coming back full force now, which both relieved and annoyed everyone around them.

"I never thought I'd wish melocholy on someone," said Pippin, "and certainly not someone whose life has been that miserable already. Is this what being around me used to be li--oof!"

For Gollum had overheard and thrown a fish at him. "Gots its belly! Ten pointses!"

"Why you--!" And they proceeded to have a very silly duel indeed, because thrown fish make for poor weapons.

 

"Just because there bes no Nazguls left isn't meaning that silly Pippin can be lighting fireses on Weathertop again! We heareded about last time, and this time you's just being silly hobbitses and Gandalf, see? And us," he added, as an afterthought. "We's not sure how we count . . ."

Pippin sighed. "I know you mean well, Smeagol, but the war is over. No one is looking for us now."

"Not but orcs. And goblins. And banditses, lots of those. We can smell them, yesss." He grinned. "Don't worry, though, hobbitses! Bandits are easy, you's just got to squeeze them when they's looking other way, and then you has big dinner!"

"Um, Smeagol?" Frodo smiled weakly at him. "You may mean well, but most people don't eat anything that can talk. Remember?"

"We remember." Smeagol hung his head down a bit more than usual. "No thingses that talk, no petses, no babieses. "

The hobbits shuddered at that last especially, but let it go. Smeagol had done very well so far, a few unnerving comments were to be expected from a being that had lived off of raw fish--and raw goblin--most of his life.

 

A few nights later his prediction came true: while looking for a good spot to make camp they spotted a group of unsavory-looking fellows blocking the road. A wizard and four experienced warriors were a bit more than the thugs had expected, however, and while they were still trying to decide how to respond Gollum came up behind them and slit the leader's throat.

That was enough to cow some of them, but not all. Two of the largest drew their blades, but Gollum remembered how even his hobbits, who knew him well, had responded to the reminder of his diet. So instead of attacking the Men and quite likely getting hurt, he quietly settled down to eat.

Gollum had never heard of psychology, much less psychological warfare, but it had always been a talent of his without him needing to know the name. Being a ghost in the dark, leaving just bones and muffled screams behind him, these were the very heart of what he had become.

"We thinks it bes tasty, Precious. Would other ones be good too? Praps we'll find out." He eyed the other Men thoughtfully. He was a small creature, but much of him was stomach, and he looked awfully thin and hungry; the bandits fled.

"See? Being monster is being useful sometimes." Smeagol grinned at his hobbits and his wizard, looking proud and ashamed all at once. "No one wants to be our meal, we jussst looks at them all starved-like and battle is won, yesss."

"Yeah, but I could have gone a lifetime without seeing that." Sam winced, looking away.

"We knows, Precious. But one less battle bes good thing."

 

Bad news, it has been said, travels faster than light. This probably explains why they met no one else upon the road until they reached Bree.

Barliman Butterbur was quite astounded to see them, and Smeagol nearly made him drop their beer. "What in the world?"

"This is Smeagol," Frodo explained, somewhat unhelpfully. "Be kind to him, for he is very old and has been alone for a long time."

"We was hobbitses once, Precious, but we was curseded and broke, and many bad things happened for long timeses. Some to us, some from usss." Smeagol attempted a friendly smile, but it didn't go very well.

"You don't look much like a hobbit," said Barliman weakly.

"We know. 'Twas a most nasssty curse, my love, wasn't it? Yes, yes it was. But Precious be gone now, and we is free!"

Barlimun just stared blankly, until eventually Smeagol took pity on him. "Is being long story, Precious, don't worry."

 

Once they were finally settled at Bag End, there were more than a few hobbits that wanted to know about everything that had happened. The first was Fatty Bolger, followed by several historians, artists, assorted random Tooks and the local blacksmith. And all of them--bar the blacksmith, who was mostly interested in the armor the travelers had brought home--promptly started by asking about the strange creeping person that hissed and muttered.

"This is Smeagol," said Frodo, with a small, rueful smile. "Victim of the most horrible curse I have ever heard tell of. But he was a hobbit once, long ago, so we have brought him to the Shire. Be kind to him, and perhaps he will learn to be a hobbit again."

"If they bes kind then we will try. If they bes mean to us wes eatses them!" Gollum grinned at the hobbits, and laughed when they backed away.

Smeagol sighed at his other half, then bounded up to the historians like a deranged puppy. "We isss being Smeagol-Gollum, of the River Folk--the Stoorses. Is being nice to meet other hobbitses, has been ssso long! We is being . . . 589 yearses old, we thinkses."

One of the historians perked up a bit at that. "Oh my, really? Can you tell us what your life has been like?"

". . . Fish. There's been lots and lots of fish so far." Which was something of a stumper.


End file.
